Harry Potter and the Battalion of Volance
by Agostino Lovegood
Summary: The ministry is falling. Dumbledore is dead. Voldemort is stronger than ever. A war is brewing and Harry knows it. He must destroy the Horcruxes before it is too late for the wizarding world.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**The Burning of the House of Black  
**

Inside the house, it was an ironically calm night, except for the quiet stirring and cursing of the house elf, and the slow, muted footsteps of the man inside, who impatiently glared at the wall clock. The jinxes had failed; they were cast as if by a first-year Hogwarts student and he had entered without difficulty.

"_Lumos," _he muttered, illuminating the tip of his wand to make sure that his eyes were not playing a trick on him at such an indecent hour. Midnight. "_Damn," _he said, under his breath. He walked slowly to the window beside the door, which revealed the world outside, naïve to the existence of the house which had stood for so long, and the moon, which, tonight, was full and glimmered inside, illuminating the drawing room.. There was a small rap on the door, and then a series of clicks and the clatter of a chain. In the doorway stood a small, nervous-looking man, who stared in and looked around nervously, trying desperately to collapse his umbrella. His dark brown hair blew disobediently in the wind yielded from the thunderstorm outside.

"Come in, come in," said Severus Snape, lowering his wand. He pointed it at the fireplace, which exploded suddenly with a deep amber fire, heating up the room. The man in the doorway shivered with warmness and walked inside, his rain-soaked boots leaving wet footprints in the wood floor. "You're quite late."

"I'm sorry, I was detained for a few moments by Lucius. He had some business to discuss."

"What of Rabastan?"

"I'm not sure," began Rodolphus Lestrange nervously, his snakelike voice almost at a whisper, "but I think he's escaped. I've not seen him."

"How many of you have escaped?"

"Most of us. We've taken care to ensure that people like Stan Shunpike have remained. Filthy blood traitor - Did the Malfoy boy fulfill his task?"

"He surpassed his duty to me, I'm afraid," said Snape conversationally, as if reciting a recipe.

"I would be honored," said Rodolphus with a chuckle. "You've found the locket?"

"No," said Snape, "the elf refuses to divulge its whereabouts."

"We shall see about that._" _Rodolphus turned towards the old staircase, which was laden with cobwebs. "_Kreacher!_"

Kreacher, the former house elf of the family Black, crept haltingly down the stairs, which creaked and sighed as he bounded over them. The house-elf appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Kreacher has told you that he is allegiant to only Harry P-"

"Shut up, Kreacher," said Rodolphus harshly. "Don't you remember who I am?" Kreacher glowered at Rodolphus, his black, beady eyes, examining every inch of him. Rodolphus stirred impatiently. "_Well?" _Kreacher sprinted towards Rodolphus and collapsed at his feet, moaning and shrieking in horror or astonishment.

"Master Rodolphus! Kreacher has not seen Master Rodolphus or his beautiful wife Bella in so many long years!" shrieked Kreacher, momentarily forgetting the allegiance to his new master. Rodolphus glanced at Snape smugly.

"Good. Now, Kreacher... the locket?" Kreacher's face suddenly drained of all expression. "M-Master Rodolphus, Kreacher -"

"_Tell me," _he hissed, removing his wand from inside his old, tattered robes and pointing it at the defenseless house-elf.

"Master Regulus f-forbid Kreacher from t-telling -"

"_You will tell me," _said Rodolphus, his voice trembling with malice,_ "or I will kill you and destroy the house of your beloved Blacks." _

_"_But Kreacher does not -"

"_CRUCIO!" _boomed Lestrange. Snape winced; Kreacher's small body rose into the air and he made a piercing sound like a cupboard of goblets hurtling to the ground.

"KREACHER DESTROYED MASTER REGULUS'S LOCKET! KREACHER DES-"

"_Lies! Tell the truth, you filthy hobgoblin!" _

_"_U-upstairs," said Kreacher, his bullfrog voice quavering, "Kreacher gave it to Master Sirius and-and-" Kreacher closed his eyes and tears rolled down his small cheeks- "Master Sirius's school trunk-" Kreacher again dropped to the ground, sobbing hysterically.

"Thank you, Kreacher," said Snape brightly. Kreacher remained prone on the floor, and Snape and Rodolphus left him there to strangle himself.

As the two men ascended the staircase, they looked curiously at the portraits on either side of it, which were neatly placed, women relatives on one side and men on the opposite. All of them sat cozily in their frames, wearing dignified, proud looks.

"Walburga...Orion...Lucretia...Ignatius...Andromeda...that filthy Muggle-lover-" He stopped abruptly as the stairs gave a great lurch.

"Severus - ?" said Rodolphus, all traces of excitement vacating his lined face. The stairs began to shake more violently than they had, threatening to toss them. They shouted several spells to avert the shaking that caused the entire house to tremor, but none of them seemed to work, and after completely removing their ability to climb any higher, the stairs gave away completely. Rodolphus, cursing loudly, threw himself suddenly at the next landing, which too creaked, but did not rumble and shake."I'm fine!" he called down to Snape, who had hit the ground and slid into a group of chairs, which remained in place, undisturbed.

"A jinx!" shouted Snape angrily from below.

Upstairs, Rodolphus revolved riotously, trying carefully to decide which of the two opposite doors to go in. He squinted at the one on the left, and saw the dusty nameplate that read "Sirius."

"Brilliant!" he said triumphantly, taking out his wand, which he had barely saved from the pile of rubble that was formerly the staircase. "_Anticrines Maximo!" _The doorknob detached itself and flitted around in the air, broken, with a life of its own. There was a gaping hole in the door, and Rodolphus put his hands in it, the door ready to swing open obligingly -

"Severus Snape," a pained voice whispered, "Traitor of the Order, servant of Voldemort, murderer, spy – What is your duty here? Have you come here to kill me, Severus? _I trusted you. We all trusted you, and you betrayed us, Severus._" A great pair of hands reached through the hole in the door and seized Rodolphus's wrists. The hands were cold, numbingly cold, and the entire house began to tremble. He gasped, clouds of ceiling raining down on him. The portraits in the staircase began to shoot off the walls, the screams of the people in the portraits commingling with the high-pitched, sibilant scream of Kreacher downstairs.

"_NO!" _cried Rodolphus, struggling to break free from the hands that would not let go. They gripped him even tighter, his hands becoming dangerously numb.

"_Severus Snape," _the mouthless voice began again, "_Traitor of the Order, servant of Vol-" _

"_I – AM – NOT – SEVERUS – SNAPE!" _Everything abruptly became normal, and his hands were free. The hands that had taken his, apparently disembodied, vanished into thin air. The door was now ajar, and he peered in nervously, waiting for something else to materialize from the pitch blackness and assail him. "Lumos Maxima."

Sirius's room reflected his personality: it was highly unkempt, posters obscuring the colour of the walls and many scraps of paper littering the floor. There was a huge Gryffindor banner over his bed, and to the right of it was a picture of three boys, apparently teenagers: Remus Lupin on the far left, waving and laughing; James Potter in the middle, who wore a haughty, arrogant look; on the far right, Sirius, who looked slightly troubled, as if James had just gotten finished telling a joke at his expense. Scoffing, Rodolphus raised his wand and shot the picture down from the wall. Behind the picture was another picture of Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew all roaring with laughter, a Snitch buzzing around them, which shone golden even in the crippling darkness of the house. There was a note tacked onto its frame.

_Dear James, _

_ Hello, friend, it's been too long since we've seen each other last! How is Lily? How is Harry? In any case, I thought that you might like this picture. I found it while rummaging through the things from my school days. Your friend and bodyguard, Padfoot. _

There was another note underneath it written in different handwriting, apparently a response to the first.

_Dear Padfoot, _

_ I've put your picture on the wall in our living room. Another day at Hogsmeade after a Quidditch match, perhaps? Lily is very well, but I fear that- _

The letter stopped abruptly there, but underneath it was a picture of Lily holding a baby with dark brown hair, her belly still fat from the pregnancy. The baby laughed and cooed, holding a Golden Snitch in his hand, which amused him as it buzzed around and landed back in his small hands.

Rodolphus continued to penetrate through the objects scattered about the room, but there was no sign of the trunk; then again, it had been many long years ago that they had all attended Hogwarts. He looked up at a bookcase in the corner of the room, which only had a few dusty, broken books on it, and on the top of it was a small trunk.

"_Accio trunk!" _The trunk began to wobble and slide toward the end of the bookcase, and then reached the end and plummeted downward, hitting the floor with a great din. He walked over slowly and put it right-side up. It was apparently not guarded by any jinxes, but to avoid another mishap, he pointed his wand at it and cried, "Disimpigrus!" The thing was coated with a very thick layer of dust, the aftereffects of many years of inutility. It was untidily adorned with various Quidditch related stickers. Slowly, he dissected its contents – some old school books, missing covers, a very old Daily Prophet, an empty potion bottle, and several other random objects that represented Sirius's eccentricities – but there was no locket. He charged around the room, looking under the bed and checking all around every surface, but no locket was to be found. He began to gather the scraps of paper on the floor, which appeared to be letters, the picture, and several other objects on the floor and under the unmade bed and shoved it all in the trunk, running out of the room. Staring down at the crevasse that was the staircase, he jumped, yelling "DULCIO!" as he descended through the space. The floor under him cushioned accordingly.

"Where is the elf?" Rodolphus asked, his voice cracking. Snape, peering indifferently out the window, gestured to Kreacher, who had taken to launching himself against a wall that was neatly decorated with plates bearing more Black family members. "You _liar,_" he said quietly upon approaching Kreacher, whose eyes seemed to show the most miniscule trace of emotion. "There was no locket in the trunk." Kreacher rose, his brutish old body shaking with fear.

"But Kreacher put it in M-Master Sirius's Hogwarts trunk!" Rodolphus opened the trunk and magically removed its contents, which fell into a line on the floor.

"_NO – HE – DIDN'T!" _he cried, beside himself with rage. "YOU DISOBEYED YOUR MASTER AND YOU DISOBEYED HIS FAMILY!" Kreacher was suddenly in a frenzy of self-punishment.

"_Kreacher does not deserve to live! Kreacher has betrayed his family, his true Masters! Kreacher does not deserve to live!" _

"You have one final chance to tell us where the locket is, you grubby -"

"_Kreacher does not know! Kreacher put it in Master Sirius's trunk! Kreacher does not deserve to live! Kreacher does not -" _

_"Avada Kedav-"_

_"_No, don't kill him! He is our last hope of finding the locket, if he indeed is lying. Spare him!" protested Snape, who now charged Rodolhpus with his wand held in front of him.

"If it is lying, the elf deserves its comeuppance!"

"DO NOT KILL HIM! EXPELLI-"

"_Impedimenta!" _yelled Rodolphus, turning back to Kreacher. Snape froze in place, his wand falling to the floor.

"Avada Kedavra!" The jet of pure green light that shot from Rodolphus's wand tossed Kreacher across the room and drowned out the diminishing traces of moonlight on the floor.

"Kreacher knows!" he moaned with his last gasp of breath. The old elf fell against the grandfather clock opposite where Snape and Rodolphus stood. In the aurora of light, the nameplate on the clock that read "Black" glinted. Rodolphus walked over to survey Kreacher, whose small body looked torn and broken as a result of the impact.

"_Idiot!" _cried Snape, again enabled to move, but freezing in horror when discovering that Rodolphus now had his wand pointing directly at Snape. "No," he said calmly, "Do not kill me. It is your fault that, due to your impulsive wanton nature, we will never truly know where Slytherin's locket is - What are you doing?"

"Ignio Arcesso," uttered Rodolphus, redirecting his wand at the fireplace. Fire smoothly flowed from the raging fire in a stream and twisted around his wand, gripping it. The fire traced every piece of furniture and every portrait in the room, and then beastly figures of all kingdoms began to form in its wake, some trotting around the room and some flying gracefully around the gaudy chandelier, all materialized from the inferno.

"What the _hell _are you-"

"Come, Snape," said Rodolphus, his voice absent of expression. Snape obeyed confusedly. He grabbed Sirius's trunk and replaced its contents, snapping the lock which held itself between the "Gryffindor rules" and "Chudley Cannons forever" stickers. "We are going." He opened the door, giving one last contemptuous glare to the house.

Broomsticks in hand, the two men ascended into the rainy, unfriendly night, leaving the most noble house of Black to burn away.


	2. Petunia's Tears

Chapter 2

_Petunia's Tears_

The astronomy tower was frigidly cold and smelled of sweat and blood. He could hear Fenrir Greyback's hungry chortling, Draco Malfoy's horrified whimpering, Amycus and Alecto Carrow's anxious panting, and the terrified screams from the lower levels of the castle.

"Harry," he thought he heard Dumbledore say quietly, his half-moon spectacles sliding from his face. "Harry, please. _Please." _

"_Avada Kedavra," _said Snape haltingly. The tower was illuminated with an effulgent show of green light. He could see Dumbledore's great, spread-eagled body flying over the battlements. His suspended body seemed to hang there for a minute, and then he fell out of sight. He, Harry, was petrified and condemned to watch as the greatest wizard he had ever known faced his end. Snape vanished, seemingly into thin air, and Fenrir Greyback came at Harry, taunting him, harvesting him with his eyes. He heard Ron and Hermione screaming for him, fearfully calling his name and awaiting a response, he heard them screaming, screaming in unbearable pain -

"Potter!" crowed Dudley Dursley, who had sailed into Harry's room without knocking. He instinctively grabbed his wand.

"No! _Confringo_!" slurred Harry. There was a _CRACK _and a great flash of green-red light, and Dudley's Neanderthal torso flew aside. The jet of light hit a book on the bookshelf behind where he had been standing and the book exploded, its dark, burnt pages drifting to the floor. Dudley stood up, an indignant, scared look on his face. Harry had just landed back in Little Whinging, Surrey, and realized what he'd done.

"B-Breakfast dishes, Potter." Though it had been this way for many years now, Harry still seethed when he realized that the Dursleys had again eaten breakfast without so much as telling him. He imagined being a normal child with a normal life, being awaken every morning to eat a steamy, hot breakfast...

He rose from the bed, a great sigh surging through his bones. His heart plummeted as he realized what had happened nearly 2 years ago, when he'd almost been expelled for performing magic while still underage. He cursed loudly and kicked his Hogwarts trunk, the contents inside causing a large din. Hauling his feet down the stairs, Harry looked out at the grey morning and realized how unsafe he was, how the Death Eaters could find him virtually anywhere he went. He was so buried in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that Vernon Dursley had been speaking for several moments.

"...'Ministry of Magic' thing, and don't go telling me they aren't freaks - and when you finish with that, pack the china on the counter and – boy, are you listening to me?" spat Vernon.

"Oh. Yeah, of course..." said Harry, his thoughts still on the void of greyness outside. He walked over to the basin, which was full of grey, filthy water.

"Thought you weren't supposed to do magic out of school, Potter?" said Dudley haughtily, facing Petunia Dursley, her shrewish face contorting in horror.

"You used magic on my Duddykins?" Sighing, Harry ignored them both and continued to follow Vernon's orders. "_Answer me!" _she shrieked suddenly. Harry threw himself around to face the Dursleys.

"Look," he said, exasperated, "They are coming. The Death Eaters. They will _torture and kill you. They are merciless, heartless, die hard servants of the dark lord. _Don't you get it? You have much more to worry about than whether your Duddykins got his feelings hurt!"

"Such _insolence-"_

"Shut up," said Harry lividly, hurling an elegantly designed china plate into the murky waters. He turned around and stormed upstairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him. Why didn't they understand?

A copy of the day's _Daily Prophet _lay face up on the bed before him. To Harry's astonishment, there was a picture of himself on the front of the paper, smirking and then frowning glumly. "_Exclusive Book Interview with Felisa Skeeter, pg. 1." _Harry had not heard of the person mentioned, but assumed that it was a relative of Rita Skeeter, who was one of the only people that did interviews with the _Prophet. _ In relatively small print under the humongous picture, "_Mysterious Deaths, pg. 12." _Seizing the paper, Harry hastily flipped past the interview, which apparently spanned 11 whole pages, to page 12, where the headline was reprinted.

_We regret to inform you of the following deaths: _

_Rita Skeeter, unknown causes _

_Berta Ballinge, unknown causes_

_Malfus Tirone, unknown causes_

_Derriger Bertrand, unknown causes, _

_Nymphadora Tonks, unknown causes_

Harry reread the last carefully. His heart retreated; he was sick to his stomach, the paper became too heavy in his arms. He fell backwards, either into the bed or out the window, he could not tell and did not care. Another death. He could picture Tonks, her hair grey, dead... He could picture Bellatrix Lestrange cackling, elated about the news of the death of her own niece... Then he saw it, in small, bold, grey letters:

**RUMORED MASS BREAKOUT AT AZKABAN PRISON: 50+ PRISONERS AT LARGE**

Details are not being given out at this time as few are known.

Again, he sank. If Voldemort had enough power now to build his forces back up, Hogwarts would be a simple victim. He would take over the entire wizarding world, and there would be nothing left but Death Eaters... A tear splashed down Harry's curved nose onto the paper, which he stuffed into his pocket. They had failed; hours and hours of training with the D.A., Sirius had died, Dumbledore had died, he himself had almost died countless times... all in vain. Voldemort had won. It felt good to cry; it felt good to not have to be a hero or save anyone for once, to cede, to give up...

A door slammed shut downstairs. "_HARRY POTTER!" _cried Vernon angrily. Harry imagined Vernon's beet-red face and had to suppress hysterical laughter from emerging from deep inside of his chest. He stalked down the stairs, which led to the strangely empty looking living room, and stared at the man standing in the doorway with a look of both elation and surprise.

"Ah, Harry! How very nice to see you, and to finally meet your_ charming _family!" said Remus Lupin merrily, nodding at Petunia. A mirthful smile was smeared across his face, but Harry had known Lupin long enough to detect extreme sarcasm in his voice. Vernon rolled his eyes, apparently not flattered, and ushered his family to the other side of the room.

"Remus!" said Harry, registering the use of Lupin's first name now that he was no longer a professor at Hogwarts. Lupin's robes were more tattered than ever, and Lupin had aged considerably. His hair had begun greying prematurely, and his large brown eyes seemed absent of emotion.

"I have to speak with you. I have loads that I need to tell you – do you mind?" Lupin asked the Dursleys, who were all glowering at Harry and Lupin. They retreated into the kitchen, and Lupin turned back around to face Harry. "Firstly – Tonks and I have been married, do you know?" Confusion and sadness spread across Harry's face.

"I'm so sorry, I -"

"That's not a very nice thing to say."

"What?" Lupin's confused expression mocked Harry's. "Surely you've heard - ?"

"Heard what?"

"About Tonks," Harry said, proffering the issue of the _Daily Prophet _from his pocket. Staring down at his own smirking face for a brief moment, he flipped to _Mysterious Deaths, pg. 12, _and held it up.

"Oh dear," he said, "you're still reading that rubbish? They've been reporting fake deaths for weeks now." He guided his finger down the page, and Harry realized that he hadn't read the whole article. "Look," said Lupin jestingly, "there's my name." Surely enough, Lupin's name was at the bottom of the article, reading "_Remus Lupin, unknown causes." _

"But I don't understand," said Harry, stuffing the paper back into his front pocket, "Why on earth would they report fake deaths?"

"Rumor has it that people everywhere – Ministry officials, Prophet reporters – are being Confunded and Imperiused - it might be a diversion by the Death Eaters to get everyone to let their sadness make them succumb to Voldemort. They've got a lot of filthy tricks up their sleeves – but anyway, Harry, I didn't come here to make idle chat -" Harry scoffed; he hadn't considered this talk about Death Eaters Confunding Ministry officials 'idle chat' - "even in the _Prophet_ they've surely reported the mass escape from Azkaban -"

"Well, hurry, then!" called Petunia, who screwed up her wrinkled face when Lupin turned to scowl at her."

"Oh, you folks," he said casually, "I almost forgot. A Ministry official will be here shortly to take you to your safe place."

"A _Ministry official? _Can't we just go of our own accord? Didn't you think for one minute that -"

"Damn it, I've told you one-hundred times! If you stay here, Death Eaters will come for you, and you'll all be forced to watch each other die a painful, torturous death! Don't you understand?" Vernon stood up and began to yell, but Harry waved him off suddenly, eager to listen to Lupin.

"So it's not a rumor?"

Lupin chuckled. "A _rumor? _Of course it's not a rumor. They've already captured 5 or 6 of them, but -"

"But how is the Ministry expected to capture them if they're all being controlled by Death Eaters?"

"That is a good question, and part of the reason I've come here. You see," began Lupin, conjuring a goblet from his old, tattered robes and filling it with a golden liquid, "The five Death Eaters that were captured and put back in Azkaban – were Muggles."

"_What?" _

"Yes. The Death Eaters at the Ministry convinced them that the poor Muggles they captured were Death Eaters who'd been imprisoned long ago – and poor blokes, they were Imperiused into believing they were – anyway, they're in Azkaban now."

"Well, can't we _do _something about it?"

"I'm afraid that most of us of the Order are being forced to keep a very, very low profile – in fact, it is for the better that some of us are being reported dead in the _Prophet – _but Harry, you are a fugitive according to the Death Eaters, and obviously, you're in the most danger. There are few places that are still safe for you now. If you mix with the wrong people, you'll be in Azkaban before the real criminals.

"Some of the Ministry officials are simply Confunded, but very many of them are actually Death Eaters under the effects of the Polyjuice potion. In that case, restoring the Ministry won't be an easy task without a fiasco like the one during your fifth year at Hogwarts."

"How am I going to get out of here and to a safe place?"

"That's just it; some others will be here soon to help us on our way out."

"What about Hogwarts? I can't think of a place safer than -"

"No, Harry," said Lupin firmly, you must not go back to Hogwarts. Being among that many others – Slytherins, at that, they're just about the only ones that stayed, I heard – is risky business. Surely there are Confunded teachers and even Death Eaters inside."

"Then where are you planning to take me?"

"We'll have to discuss that once the others get here. Ah, there's Williamson now," he said to the Dursleys in the kitchen, who moved about restlessly. The doorbell rang, and Lupin stood up to answer.

"Excuse me - !" said Vernon, rising, apparently offended by Lupin's gesture to answer the door.

"H-hello," said the man, stepping shakily through the threshold. The man wore a brown bowler hat, his wiry grey hair sticking out the sides of it. "Is th-this the-"

"Dursleys, yes," answered Vernon curtly. Harry looked at Lupin nervously, apparently noting the man's erratic behavior.

"D'you think he might be-"

"He isn't," said Lupin quietly, "Remember, he was there after the incident in the Department of Mysteries. He was traumatized by the whole thing, he hasn't been the same since. Better to be crazy than to be a Death Eater, I always say." Harry's body shivered as he remembered Quirrell, who had become skittish and mentally unsound after he had been possessed by Voldemort. He looked back at the Dursleys, who all had their hands full with left-over boxes and luggage.

"I t-trust you've got your b-belongings gathered up?" Petunia nodded.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye," said Harry. A slightly awkward feeling crept around the room. Vernon walked up to Harry, depositing his bags on the floor beside him, and Harry thought for a brief second that Vernon might hug him.

"_This is your fault, boy," _hissed Vernon. "_You just had to go and get Vol-a-mort after you, didn't you?Your drunkard father and your freak mother just had to go and get themselves killed." _Vernon spoke as if he actually knew what he was talking about. Harry drew his wand and pointed it threateningly in Vernon's face, the air in the room suddenly becoming cold. Vernon recoiled, retreating backwards several steps, his loathsome expression abruptly leaving his face.

"Just see if you think differently when the Death Eaters show up on your doorstep. Goodbye." The large man, whose face was now flushed, grabbed his things and sank slowly through the doorway.

"Come on, Dudley, Petunia, it is getting late." Harry noted Dudley for the first time, whose huge figure was trembling with either fear or confusion, his eyes wide.

"Goodbye, it was a pleasure," Harry lied, this time facing Dudley and Petunia. Petunia began to follow Vernon, but before she exited the house, she put down her things and walked towards Harry, her wrinkled, lined face cloaked with sadness.

"Look at me," she whispered slowly.

"What?"

"_Look at me." _Harry shuddered as Petunia's bony fingers drew up to Harry's face and removed his glasses. "_Lily's eyes," _she said under her breath. Petunia looked at him full in the face, examining every aspect of the eyes whose light had gone away so that Harry could live. She pushed his hair aside, revealing his scar. He could hear Vernon grumbling outside.

"_She would've been so proud."_

Harry could not believe what he was hearing; 16 years and she hadn't ever mentioned Lily except in a derogatory manner. Tears were spattered now on her leathery face, and Harry could see that she was trying hard to forget her sister and regain her composure, turned around again. "C-come on, Duddykins." Dudley's huge hand yielded a slight wave and Petunia and Dudley, followed by Williamson, disappeared through the doorway. He heard the car starting, and Harry peered out the window. As the old car began to disappear around the drive into the approaching autumn and an unknown fate, he thought he could see his aunt giving him a smile, an actual, heartfelt smile. He felt obliged to return it.


End file.
